Agatha Raisin and the Love from Hell

suitcase in the basement . . . Well, you’ll never believe it.’
    ‘A body?’ asked Agatha sourly.
    She ignored her and said to Charles. ‘It was a fox coat!’
    ‘What horror!’ said Charles, accepting a green mug of coffee.
    ‘Exactly. To think of all the effort I and my friends have gone to, to sabotage the hunt. I phoned up Sheppard. He’s a shopkeeper , gents’ outfitting, how quaint. She, that woman who was killed, Melissa, it was she who came to collect it.’
    ‘Mrs Banks-James –’ began Charles.
    ‘Oh, do call me Felicity, Sir Charles.’
    ‘Just Charles will do. Felicity, what did you make of her?’
    Agatha and Charles had seated themselves at either side of the table. Felicity sat down beside Charles and went on as if Agatha weren’t there.
    ‘Came as a shock, actually.’
    ‘In what way?’
    Agatha stood up abruptly. ‘Do you mind if I go out into your backyard there and have a smoke?’
    ‘Be my guest,’ said Felicity, not taking her eyes off Charles.
    Agatha stumped off. Felicity waited until the door had closed and murmured, ‘What a grumpy woman, if you don’t mind my saying so, Charles. Not exactly one of us.’
    Charles bit back the remark he was about to make, which was, ‘What do you mean, one of us, you pretentious raddled bitch?’
    Instead he said mildly, ‘You were saying you were surprised about Melissa.’
    ‘Well, my dear, after all that ghastly furnishing, she was not what I expected at all. She was very pleasant-looking and very smartly dressed. After introducing herself, she said, “I’ve come to rid you of that horrible coat.” You could have knocked me down with a feather. She said he had bought it for her and she couldn’t bear to wear it without crying when she thought of all those dead little foxes. We had a long chat. She said she was so glad to be free of him. And then she began to cry and she said it had been a nightmare. After she had pulled herself together, I said I was surprised that such a sensitive person – I am very sensitive myself, some people say I am psychic – would have such furnishings, and she said he had chosen it all himself. She said he beat her. I told her to take him to court, but she said now that she was free, she just wanted peace and quiet. She promised to come out with the hunt saboteurs and left me a phone number, but when I tried it, it didn’t exist. She was so upset, she must have made a mistake. So I phoned Sheppard and asked him if he knew his ex-wife’s phone number and he snarled, “Get lost,” and slammed the phone down. He did it, mark my words.
    ‘Oh, Agatha Raisin! That’s the woman whose husband is missing. Poor her. No wonder she looks so fierce.’
    ‘We really must be going,’ said Charles. He felt he had suffered enough of Felicity’s company.
    ‘Oh, must you . . .?’ she began but Charles was walking to the kitchen door, which he jerked open and said, ‘Come on, Aggie.’
    Felicity led the way up the stairs. ‘Charles, dear,’ she cooed, ‘do give me your phone number and we can have a further chat about poor Melissa.’
    ‘I’m living with Agatha at the moment,’ said Charles smoothly.
    ‘And my phone’s been disconnected,’ said Agatha. ‘Come along, Charles.’
    ‘Right with you, dear heart. ’Bye, Felicity.’ Charles trotted after Agatha and muttered to her, ‘Back to the car.’
    He repeated everything Felicity had said, doing a very good impression of Felicity’s voice until Agatha was helpless with laughter. After she had recovered, she said, ‘I bet you Melissa did furnish that house. She was doing her chameleon bit, changing to suit whoever she was with. I bet she wore that fur coat as soon as she could. She probably hid it in the basement so that Luke Sheppard wouldn’t give it to his new wife.’
    ‘We’ll wait here for a bit and then, when we’re sure Felicity isn’t looking, we’ll try the neighbours. I feel we’re getting somewhere at last.’
    ‘I wonder what it would be like to live in a street like this,’ mused Agatha. ‘So peaceful.’
    ‘Lot of car crime in Oxford. You’d probably lose that expensive radio that you’ve got in yours and never play. Why don’t you play it?’
    ‘I like popular music when I’m driving, but the BBC’s going in for disc jockeys, particularly in the afternoon, who shout at you in estuary English, talk too much and sometimes sing along with the records.’
    ‘Get your head down! Felicity’s coming out.’
    They